


pray

by halcyonskies



Series: 100Themes: Dean/Cas [88]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean to the Rescue, Gen, Of sorts?, Past Character Death, Survival, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 01:30:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5271473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonskies/pseuds/halcyonskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected end to a day Castiel believed would be his last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pray

**Author's Note:**

> 100Themes Challenge - #27: Zombies

Castiel had given up prayer long ago.

Despite what others might believe, Castiel’s tumultuous relationship and ultimate falling out with God had developed years before the Outbreak. Everything that had happened after had only further cemented his belief that there were no angels watching over them, no one protecting them or offering mercy. The harsh reality of the world was as bloody and horrifying as it had ever been – more so now, probably.

But now that Hannah was dead, Castiel felt there was no other choice but to pray. He’d held out all this time – even after the first Croat casualty, even after the broadest part of the northwestern United States had become little more than desolate wasteland, even after every one of his friends and family had fallen out of contact. He’d even managed not to resort to asking God’s help when Hannah had pushed Inias into his arms, the bite wound shining red and pink on her forearm.

Another solid _thwack_ resonated through the dilapidated little room, followed shortly by an inhuman shriek of sound – a creature calling for its prey. Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, and Inias whimpered against the dirty fabric of his shirt. The boy was young, too young for what was about to happen – the last time they’d celebrated his birthday, there had been cake and presents and people gathered around to smile and pat him on the head. All that had been left behind, far behind in the world of Before, and though Inias was still only five years old, that old childish innocence had been mostly forgotten.

_Please, please._ Castiel felt the words ruffling his nephew’s filthy black curls, and held on even more tightly. _God, if you’re out there – if you’ve ever_ been _out there, I could really use your help. I’m not good anymore, but Inias is. You’ve already taken his mother; will you take him too?_

There was no real expectation of being saved, but Castiel had tried everything else. He’d tried running, and had been trapped in here, in this tiny closet on the second floor of some long-abandoned department store. He’d tried defending himself, and had lost every bullet he had left. Now he had none left to spare the both of them from whatever was about to happen next.

If he was even having thoughts like that, Castiel knew there were absolutely no options left. Pride might have stopped the frantic prayers falling from his lips, only growing louder and more panicked every time the door trembled from the onslaught on the other side, but pride was a useless thing to acknowledge in a time like this. He could hear Inias’ soft sobs – a learned quiet, a tactic of survival – and Castiel could hear the beat of his own heart in his ears. So he prayed.

_Please, please let it be over quickly. Please don’t make him suffer any more than he already has._

Then, almost unheard through the snarling and screeching beyond the door, there came the long-recognized sound of gunfire.

Soon after that, shouting. _Human. People._

Almost abruptly, the noise of the Croats beating down the door stopped, replaced with the thunder of combat, and more gunfire. It ended rather quickly, but it always did. If you had the ability to take down a Croat in the first place, the battle was always quick; it was only your own fear that made it seem like hours had passed by the time the creature lay dead at your feet.

“Uncle Cas?” Inias whispered.

_“Shh,”_ Castiel hissed, pressing a palm to the boy’s mouth. Even if the Croats were dead, there was no relief to be had, not really. There were people out there – more and more popping up every day, as situations grew more desperate – that were nearly as bad as the Croats themselves. Sometimes, they were actually worse. Where the Croats were practically animals – robbed of any human intelligence, driven completely by instinct and hunger – there were human beings whose minds had twisted even further than all that.

Castiel had seen things. So many things, and compared to most of them, becoming a Croat’s meal was infinitely preferable.  

After a while, the muffled sound of human voices grew louder. If they’d seen a group of Croats gathered around this door, they had to know there must be somebody on the other side. The knob rattled above Castiel’s head. Inias startled, and then huddled even closer, tucking his face into the hollow of Castiel’s throat.

“Hey!” The voice was decidedly male, deep and rough. Undoubtedly someone who’d seen too much in a short amount of time. Castiel tried not to let the tremors overtake him, always mindful of the little boy in his lap.

“Hey!” the voice called again, a little more impatient. “Whoever’s in there – you okay? We’re gonna crack the door open anyway, so you might as well speak up.”

Castiel licked his lips.

“We’re alright,” he called hoarsely, taking a chance.

“Awesome. Could you open the door, then? Nobody out here’s gonna hurt you.”

Reassurances like that meant nothing, and by the resigned notes in the man’s voice, he knew that well. But Castiel still stood, braced Inias on his hip, and shoved the chair he’d been using to bar the door out of the way.

There was only one man standing there when Castiel stepped cautiously out of the closet, which surprised him; good intentions or not, Castiel had expected a lot of guns in his face when he emerged. The man had a gun, but it wasn’t pointed in Castiel’s direction. And there _were_ others around – their attentions were just focused elsewhere. It looked as if they were scavenging the store around them, pulling clothes and towels from the broken racks nearby.

“So, first question. It’s important, so you better not lie.” The man’s eyes were green and hard as jewels, and Castiel quickly nodded in acquiescence. “You get bit?”

Ah. It was a smart question, and Castiel promptly responded in the negative. When the man’s eyes turned on Inias next, Castiel added hastily, “He didn’t get bitten either. I promise he didn’t.”

After a few moments of intense scrutiny, the man’s expression softened. He sighed, clicking the safety on his gun and holstering it. “Well, you’re damn lucky then. They would’ve gotten you sooner or later.”

“Who are you?”

“Dean Winchester.” Castiel accepted the man’s hand when it was offered, adjusting Inias on his hip so he could shake it properly.

“I’m Castiel Shurley. And this is my nephew, Inias.”

“Awesome.” Dean grinned at Inias when the boy finally looked up, and to Castiel’s astonishment, Inias grinned back. It had been a long time since he’d seen his nephew smile. “Well, I can introduce you to the rest of the group later. We have a camp nearby.”

“Oh.” Castiel had been prepared to barter, to beg, to offer _anything_ for any supplies Dean was willing to give. But Dean made it sound as if he was actually offering them a place in his camp. “We’d be – you’d let us come back with you?”

Dean looked at him like maybe he wasn’t so sure if Castiel hadn’t actually lied about being bitten after all. “Dude, yeah. You think I’m just gonna leave a guy and his kid out here in the middle of Croat territory? Unless you have somewhere else you were planning on going?”

“No, no. I, um . . . we’re alone. Inias’ mother . . .”

“Say no more.” Dean’s eyes flicked to Inias again, who’d hidden his face at the mention of Hannah. There was understanding and a deep sort of pain in his eyes. “We got a lot of folks like that back at Camp. The more the merrier, right?” Then, Dean’s face turned thoughtful. “You know how to handle a gun?”

“Of course. We had to learn pretty quickly.” Though he no longer had his only gun on him. It had been lost in Castiel’s mad scramble away from the Croats, and he had no earthly clue where he’d dropped it.

“Well, then, that’s even better. You wanna come help us clear the place out? We’re looking for anything you can think of, really – clothes, pills, first aid supplies. Water, if you can find any.”

“Of course I’ll help. Inias is rather good at finding water – aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Inias nodded seriously, and made no fuss when Castiel set him on the ground. He knew not to wander, and Castiel would hold onto his hand in any case.

“Thank you, Dean. For helping us,” Castiel said quietly, later, after they’d gotten back to Dean’s camp. He and Inias had been shown to a couple cots in one of the small homes that made up the camp’s housing – once upon a time, it had been a suburb. Now, though, a lot of the houses were in disrepair, and several of them had burned to the ground. It was infinitely better than anything Castiel had had in months, though.

Now, he sat with Dean in front of one of the many fires that dotted the camp’s main grounds. Inias was sound asleep in his cot, having conked out after eating the first hot meal they’d had in weeks.

Dean scoffed at the thanks, waving it away like an errant fly. “It’s no problem, Cas. It’s what we’re here for. Anybody that’s part of this camp is looking to save as many people as they can. So far, I’d say we’re doing pretty good.” Dean smiled, but it was a tight thing; it was obvious he was remembering, in that moment, all the people they _hadn’t_ saved. Nowadays, there were probably more casualties than there were rescuings.

“Well, you still have my gratitude. I’m glad to . . . be with people, again. And I suppose I never expected there to be so many children here. It will be good for Inias, at least.”

“Yeah, it’s a shitty thing. Lot of ‘em don’t have anybody but us. Still, we try to do everything we can. For them, and for people like you.” Dean nudged him with an elbow, tipping back his beer. The sight of beer bottles was a little surreal to Castiel, who hadn’t seen one since this whole thing started.

“This is a good place,” Castiel said difinitively. “I suppose I always thought the two of us would go the same way as Hannah, eventually. I can’t tell you how glad I am that it didn’t come to that.”

Dean nudged him again, more gently, and the two of them spent the rest of the night in comfortable quiet.


End file.
